Xuelei, Tears of Blood

Chapter 30 - Son

Zhen Shuren traced the inlayed lettering in the cold stone lovingly. His fingers followed his beloved wife's name that was engraved into the hard granite headstone. He was in a room he had built specially to entomb her.

The room had grey stone walls. The tiled floor opened up to a square plot of earth in the centre of the room. Lady Xiuying, beloved wife of Zhen Shuren was buried there. Fresh colourful petals covered her grave.

"Xiuying, my love, our son has returned. He is alive."

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Xuelei opened his eyes to a cool dim room. The large open area was empty except a small corner which had been turned into a living space. He lay in a comfortable cot. He had no strength but he was alive. He drew in a painful breath and shuddered at the tight constrictions in his chest. The wound across his back stretched.

He was shirtless, clothed only by thick bandages across his middle and back. He had on a loose fitting pair of pants. A light woollen blanket covered him.

He was not alone. He heard the sounds of cloth flapping, the swish of a weapon cutting through the air. Someone was training in the large room. Xuelei moved his head slightly, a man came into view. He was practicing the sword.

The man paused slightly throwing a glance in Xuelei's direction. The man was aware that he now had an audience, yet he continued the steps of his intricate dance until he had completed it in a dramatic pose, his sword slicing the air in front of him. He stayed locked in his ending stance for a few moments before lowering is sword.

Sheathing his weapon, he neared Xuelei's cot.

"You're awake," a gruff voice said.

Xuelei blinked. The man's face was partially covered by a mask. He nodded slowly.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Xuelei's hoarse voice was barely audible.

The man did not answer.

Another breath and Xuelei exploded in a fit of coughing, blood spewing from his mouth. The sudden racks rocked his weak body. He clutched his chest in desperation gasping for breath, but every breath he drew was accompanied with sharp jabs to his lungs and chest. By the time the fit of coughing had passed, he was limp with exhaustion. He lay curled on his side in a foetal position, trying to suppress the numbing pain in his chest.

Bright red spots formed on the bandages at his back. His convulsions had aggravated the slash wound.

"Stay still. You will not undo all I have done to save you. I will not allow it."

The man came nearer to bedside and lifted Xuelei carefully. The young assassin winced at the movement. The man reached over to a nearby side table and brought a steaming bowl of liquid to Xuelei's lips.

"Drink this. It will help with the pain."

Xuelei shook his head feebly. Was this guy trying to poison him? Never drink anything you are not sure of. That was one of the rules of survival. When your job was to kill people, people often tried to kill you too.

"Drink."

Although the man did not raise his voice, the way he said it compelled immediate and absolute obedience. Xuelei frowned, recognising the coercion. There was nothing wrong with his mind. This guy was skilled indeed to use the arts in his voice.

He was too weak to fight mentally or physically. What the hell, everybody dies, right? Maybe dying was better than being trapped in this broken body, he thought.